Action And Decision That We Can't Fake
by ImpossibleElement
Summary: Sherlock was freaking out. Properly, truly freaking out. And it was all because of a box of sweets, Runtz to be precise.


**Action And Decision That**

 **We Can't Fake**

Sherlock was freaking out. Properly, truly freaking out. And it was all because of a box of sweets, _Runtz_ to be precise. It should be stupid, it was not even a big thing, yet in that moment the detective felt like it was everything. In hindsight it should not have come as such as surprise that anything revolving around John was less than entirety.

John had invited him to go to watch a movie with him. Well, _forced_ would be a more accurate thing. It wasn't that the detective didn't enjoy the occasional entertainment, even crap telly in between cases; but going to a cinema involved crowds and he had never been good with those. Still, the blogger had insisted he really wanted to see this movie, and even if all else failed, it would be a chance to sit next to John for hours; that was good enough for the infatuated detective secretly in love with his best friend. And wasn't it just the biggest joke ever? That a man who detested anything ordinary and dull had just committed to the worst cliché of the universe, and he wasn't even a teenage girl.

They got to the theatre and John chose seats on the back to avoid overwhelming Sherlock too much. Sometimes the doctor was so chivalrous the boffin felt he would weep if he let himself. They took their seats, even if there was still a half-hour to go before the movie started. They were the only ones in there, much too early for any normal and sane people to arrive yet; but that's their only definition, isn't it? Not normal, nor sane. Sherlock surprisingly didn't get impatient of waiting. The conversation flowing freely as they both munched the popcorns John had insisted on buying. No matter if the movie was the worst torture the curly-haired man would ever get to experience, those moments with his friend were already worth it.

Minutes after a few persons could already been seen sitting there, but they still had about seven minutes to go before the lights went out. Seeing as they had already finished with the popcorns, John offered to go buy something else and leave the younger man guarding their seats. Sherlock wanted to go with him, but the soldier insisted to go on his own.

Sherlock bounced his feet in impatience while he was alone, resorting to deduce the boring lives of the others occupying the theatre. When that proved to be too dull, he turned to pondering his flatmate. The problem with John and him was that they had the worst timing of the history. Just when they seemed to be at the edge of the line, ready to toe in and risk it; something always came up and it had to be put it the back burner. Once the distraction -whatever that may be: a case, Mrs. Hudson, his brother- was gone, they were back at the beginning, working their way to a resolution until a new diversion surfaced.

A few moments later, John came back with some food and settled in. He smiled and offered him a box. Sherlock looked at it dubiously but took it anyway. The little orange box read a familiar name: _Runtz_. The boffin smirked when he thought about the idea of John actually going to get something to eat for himself and coming back with sweets for him. Maybe the blogger did know him and his taste in edibles better than anyone else, and he didn't even have to deduce it.

The detective figured he could eat a few of them, if only to pass the time until the movie started, and then until it finally ended. He thumbed out the lid and frowned when he found it already open, but figured his friend must have snatched a few before giving them to him. Reasonable, since he never ate the whole box for a very particular reason.

Once he poured half of the contents of the box into his palm to fish out the ones he wanted to eat, he froze. There, on his hand, staring back at him, were just grape Runtz. _All_ grape Runtz. The only kind that Sherlock liked, and surely it could not be a coincidence.

He turned around to look at John in confusion. "But..." He stopped, as he saw the other turn his gaze away from the screen and look at him. "John?" Said doctor smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "How did you-" The boffin asked lamely, his mind not functioning well in the face of the events.

"I remembered that you really only like the purple ones." John started. "And I thought it was very unfair that I brought you sweets and you could only eat less than half of them. So, I-" The doctor was explaining, not realising that Sherlock was practically having a panic attack with each word he uttered. "It's embarrassing, really." John scratched his neck in nervousness as a faint flush was starting to appear on his face. "I bought like five boxes to pick out the grapes and put them all in one box." The movie was starting but neither of them payed it any mind. "Don't worry, I didn't throw the others out, I thought maybe you'd like to experiment with-" He was cut off when he saw his friend stand up and turn to leave. "Where are you going?" He asked and the only answer he got was the still retreating back of the boffin. "Sherlock?" He said, earning a few _'shh'_ from the crowd of spectators, but he honestly didn't care. Sherlock will always be more important.

John followed his friend out of the room, only to find him leaning on a wall, clearly freaking out for some reason. "Sherlock, what's wrong?" The blogger questioned with a worried expression. "Did something happened?"

Sherlock turned around, and the sight of the wrecked man was enough to send a wave of guilt running through the doctor's body. "You bought me sweets, John." The younger man said, like he were saying he ran over his puppy.

"Yes, I know. Was it wrong?" John asked, resting one of his hands over the other's shoulder.

"Only purple ones." Sherlock said, like that was devastating. Willing his friend to understand how important that was. At least the touch was calming the other man a bit, the blogger had been worried that he was going to pass out on him for a moment.

"Yes." John clearly had no clue what was happening. The way he said it, made it sound so easy, like it hadn't been that much of a bother, but for the curly-haired man they were a lot more than just a nice gesture.

Sherlock stared at him. That man that had always been nice to him, even when _he_ was being an arsehole in return. He clearly valued him a lot, and that was almost too much to take for the detective. With a rush of impulsiveness he threw himself at his friend and kissed him. Fiercely, passionately; like there was no other way he could think of to thank him. He knew their relationship was not of that sort of nature. But it could be, he wanted it to be, and by the way he was enthusiastically responding to the attack, John wanted it too.

"If this is what I get for one box of sweets, remind me to buy you the whole bloody Wonka factory." John then commented between giggles once they had separated.

"You certainly know how to woo a man, John Watson." The other responded, with a silly grin of his own.

Author's note: We got fire cracker wishes that we can make.

Inspired by Gerard Way's Action Cat.

If you enjoyed it, read my other Johnlock stories.


End file.
